


The Way the Light Bends

by EllieCee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Sci-Fi, holograms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2035, and Syco Music is taking the term "manufactured boyband" to a new level. They believe that salvation has come to their failing boyband One Direction in the form of a hologram, Z11293, who was created to be the perfect boyband member. However, they overlooked the possible downfalls of controversies, short circuits and confused feelings.</p>
<p>One Direction Futuristic Sci-Fi AU with fantasy elements because I want to</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing New

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Pinocchio, Pixel Perfect, The Velveteen Rabbit, and AI because AI made me cry and I saw a production of The Velveteen Rabbit and it sort of scarred me

They gave him to us in a sleek, cylindrical case. It was so skinny that Simon’s hand could wrap around it, his thumbs still able to graze his middle finger. Louis of course cracked something about how they must’ve put the poor kid through a pressurizer to fit him in there. Niall asked if it was like a party-popper; how would he come out? Would it be like confetti? Would he just appear there? Whatever we thought, we were all in awe. And at that time, ridiculously skeptical.

Teasdale Digital told us that this hologram – hologram number Z11293 – was the best hologram in the world. It better be, Liam said, because Syco Music paid millions for it. Holograms weren’t anything new those days. Nearly every ad at the metro station was a hologram. Everyone’s favorite that time were the animated ones, especially the famous pet food advert where a cat would follow you down the walking escalator. In other words, they weren’t too exciting. When electricity turned off, they’d fizzle away. They flickered if the wiring was crooked. They were planted in one spot, however far their light generators would point to. We wondered if one of us would always have to carry hologram Z11293’s light generator everywhere. Teasdale Digital said this hologram didn’t need that, it’s an experimental free animated pixelated illusion they said. There’s no green static-y hue above its colors. It has a shadow like any real thing would. 

Could you blame us for not believing them?

 

Simon punched in the code on the cylindrical case, a code only he and the four of us knew: 72310. We stood there and watched as the top latched off, a laser pointer rose from inside, and shot a beam of light at the space in front of us. My mind tried to remember the pictures they sent us of what the hologram should look like. It was a boy – or a man I should say – about 19-20, around the ages we were. He was dark-haired, big eyed and strong browed. He stood just a little below my height, they said. The pictures looked real. I figured they were doctored.

I watched in anticipation as the light beamed a shape, quickly, line by line, pixel by pixel. First he was just a shape, filled with small squares of color. They the squares grew smaller and smaller, until they all focused. There he was, staring straight ahead, looking just like he did in the picture. His skin looked so real, olive and detailed. His cheeks were sharp, sculpted almost. His eyes were brown, dashed with green. I looked at the others; they had the most amazed look on their faces.

 

Simon walked beside hologram Z11293. 

“Hello,” Simon said, facing him.

“Hello,” the hologram greeted back, his voice smooth and syrupy. 

Niall nearly tripped forward. 

“He can talk?” he exclaimed. 

“Yes,” Simon replied, “He can sing too.”

He held up the hologram case and pointed to the keyboard on the side. 

“These are his controls. The side here is where you put chips. The chips teach him how to act. One chip is for performing, the other is for public relations, and the last one for now is blank. You can switch chips by pressing this button,” Simon said.

He clicked the red button, and suddenly hologram Z11293’s demeanor changed. He began singing the first verse of one of our songs, wonderfully if I might add. 

“I just wanna take you anywhere that you would like, we could go out any day any night,” he sang, walking and prancing around the room as if it were his stage. 

“You can type in commands on here too,” Simon said, “I shall teach you boys how to do it, especially when we have concerts.” 

Simon typed something up, and suddenly, the hologram stopped singing. He stood still and took a bow. 

“I’ll have a crew member follow a call sheet for your performances,” Simon said, “But it’s good you all know.”

 

After a demonstration of Zayn answering questions, ones Simon asked and stupid ones Louis and Niall cracked, Simon put him back in the case. One minute, the hologram was standing in front of me, animated and vocal, then next, he dissipated into thin air and into the case, just like that. 

We then all signed a contract. We pretend the hologram is real. Fans are not to know. They may not touch him, because he has a skin condition. Simon handed us thick booklets, a manual on how to write commands. Louis scoffed and left his on Simon’s table on purpose. Liam thumbed through it and saw something about having the hologram act out. Niall said we should have him wank in public. Simon rolled his eyes and told us to stop being ridiculous. We were to return the next day and help think of a name for him.


	2. Tensions

“Names, names,” Simon said, opening up a name website on the screen board.

 “It’s your job to pick a name. I’ll be back in an hour.”

 Niall jumped to the screen before Simon could leave the room. He immediately selected the “fantasy” category, only to have Louis shove him aside to pick “royalty names”. Liam shook his head and let it fall into his hands.

  “This isn’t going to work, Harry,” he mumbled.

 “What makes you think that?” I asked.

 “A hologram,” Liam said, making ridiculous gestures in the air, “A hologram, a fuckin’ hologram. I don’t understand how that’s going to help sales.”

 I shrugged. Liam’s face was red, the kind of red it is when Louis pushes his buttons to hard, or when Niall refuses to pay attention at rehearsals.

 “Simon said he was made for the sole purpose of being in a boyband,” I replied, shrugging. Liam sighed, as if he carried the world on his poor shoulders.

 “That’s the thing. Kids who are raised by their parents to be geniuses, kids who spend their childhoods cramming equations or in a dance studio. You’ve heard those stories. They snap,” Liam said.

 I patted his knee. “Li, those things happen mostly in films. We aren’t in a film. This hologram – he’s not human.”

 

 “William!” Louis screeched before Liam could finish.

 “No! Darragh,” Niall said, “Name him after one of my best mates.”

 “You nob, he doesn’t look like a Darragh,” Louis said, as he smacked Niall’s face, “Kid don’t look Irish.”

 Liam buried his head in his hands again, only to continually go unnoticed by the other two.

 “D’you reckon he’s supposed to be white?” Niall asked.

 “He doesn’t look it,” I replied, trying to remember his face.

 “What’s he supposed to be, then?” Louis asked, “Don’t wanna give the fellow an inappropriate name.”

 We were all shook up by the sound of slamming. I turned to find Liam, the reddest he’d ever been, heaving. Never have I seen Louis afraid, Louis was never afraid.

 “Are you all seriously giving in to this ludicrous idea?” Liam asked. Niall nearly shook his head out of fear, before collapsing between Louis and me.

 “Yes,” Louis mumbled in a small voice.

 Liam groaned. “This is fucking stupid,” he said, before he stomped out.  He trailed unbelievably hot air behind him, and we all felt it. Liam was never anything but warm or breezy.

 Louis stood there, mouth agape, until the hot air dissipated. He turned to Niall, whose eyes were wide, frozen on the shut doors Liam had just slammed.

 “What’s his problem?” Louis whispered, in case Liam was to hear it.

 “Dunno,” Niall said as he walked back towards the screen, “He was never keen with it.”

 Louis started up the naming website again. We stood there quietly, each of us probably dying to bring up how we felt about the idea, but instead kept it in, as we scrolled through endless list of masculine names. Three minutes before Simon came in; we’d picked it “Zayn”, which meant beautiful in Arabic, as Louis said, “The lad is beautiful, that’s why he can’t possibly be real”.

 

Simon had the crew bring us lunch up there, where we spent the day learning commands. My head throbbed with lines and lines of codes, and was battling sleep by the end of it. Liam came back eventually, and fortunately all his steam had gone out.

 “Memory-Command: _Answer” was how to have “Zayn” react to questions.

 “Kinetic-Command:_Perform” was to put him in performance mode.

 “Memory-Command:_concert_SETLIST” was to have him follow the schedule of a concert.

Teasdale Digital had the whole setlist command written for us, and apparently it’s not that hard to write command lists for “Zayn”. “Just as easy as setting up a light booth”, the woman at Teasdale Digital said. She said it’s funny, because “Zayn” was just rays of light anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Zayn” joined us a couple of days later, with a new, fresh look. Teasdale Digital had buzzed off the sides of his thick, dark hair, and pulled the front into a quiff. His stubble had been shaved off, leaving his sharp cheeks bare.

 “So you can change him in a snap?” Niall asked, “Can we dye his hair green?”

 Simon gave Niall a look; a cue for him to shut up now, because we had a lot of work to do. The choreographer came in and showed us the staging. Liam was anything but pleased when “Zayn” was placed dead in the center.

 We started off with “Na, Na, Na”, a bouncy tune. Louis joked about choreography, but he bit his tongue as soon as the choreographer whispered to Simon about actual choreography. They told the rest of us to sit aside for a bit, and we waited until the woman from Teasdale Digital walked in. She took “Zayn’s” cylindrical case and popped in a new chip. After she punched in a few lines of commands, “Zayn” stood there, slightly dramatic, until the music started. He began doing dance moves, reminiscent of the early 2000’s, Simon said.

 “He’s amazing,” Niall said, “Looks just like one of them boybands who dance.”

 I heard Liam push himself further back in the corner. He huffed, just loud enough for me to hear. I turned around, as he rolled his eyes.

 “This is wonderful,” Simon said, “But I don’t think these other boys could possibly…”

 “We could try!” Louis piped up, excited. None of us had ever been too into the idea of choreography, but Louis had been hinting he wanted to at least _try._

 “Really?” Niall said, “ _We_ could?”

 Simon’s eyes grew. “Oh dear,” he mumbled.

 Louis skipped to the middle of the floor, behind “Zayn”. He looked at us with something wild in his eyes. I turned around to the sound of stomping; Liam had walked off again, this time leaving a trail of boiling hot air.

 “Payne!” Simon called, “Larissa, go get him please. Boys, try out the dance moves, I need to have another talk with Liam.”

 

Soon enough, I was standing next to Niall, struggling to dance in time. I didn’t know how to move my arms or my legs correctly, remembering the fan that shouted “noodle arm” at me during a morning show performance. We looked absolutely dreadful; even Louis, but at least he enjoyed it. The choreographer gave us a weary look as we finished, and just then, Simon walked in with Liam.

 “We’re not doing dance moves, mate, no need for your tantrums,” Louis suddenly snapped.

 “Shite,” Niall mumbled under his breath.

 “What’s your problem, Tomlinson?” Liam said.

 “You could stop being such a miserable twat, I know this is weird, but why not try to suck it up?” Louis said, fire scalding in his voice.

 “Cool it, lads,” Simon shouted. We all went silent.

 Simon walked slowly to the middle of the floor.

 “Everybody,” he said firmly, “Listen to me. We are not going to fall apart because of this. We are all going to try this new thing, because right now, this is all we have left.”

 Liam, head down, walked towards the center of the floor and stood awkwardly beside Louis.

 “All right,” Simon said, “Rhee, take it away.”

 The choreographer stood in front of us again.

 “This time, no dance choreography. We’re going to do staging. Lou, switch the hologram’s chips please,” the choreographer said.

 The woman from Teasdale Digital clicked a switch on “Zayn’s” case, and in a flash, his demeanor changed. He stood there, eyes focused on an imaginary crowd, as we would in the beginning of a show.

 

We stopped six times during rehearsal. Three for missed cues. Another three because Liam and Louis wouldn’t stop fighting. When it ended, “Zayn” stood there, perfectly still. He fizzled, and then disappeared into a thin line and back into his case. Simon tucked it under his arm.

 “Seven tomorrow morning,” he said, “No bickering.”

 Louis walked out briskly, bumping into Liam on purpose. Liam’s muscles tightened, ready to leap, before I squeezed his wrist and pulled him to come with me.

 

I hopped into Liam’s car, where he blasted an angry ballad before pressing the start button.

 “Are you okay?” I asked, over the banging drums.

 Liam put the car into drive, pressed start, and the car levitated. We were floating a good amount on the road before he answered me.

 “He’s gonna end up replacing us,” Liam said, gripping the navigator tightly.

 “Who?” I asked.

 “That damn hologram,” he replied. His forehead scrunched up tight, almost Hulk-like. It was unsettling seeing Liam in that state, especially when you're driving with him in a car. He had the habit of letting anger swallow him.

 He turned sharply at a curve, emitting honking and shouts from surrounding cars.

 “What makes you say that?” I asked.

 “He’s perfect,” Liam said, “Like they said, he was made for this. We aren’t. Pretty sure he’s gonna prove that maybe one of us isn’t needed.”

 “Liam, don’t think like that,” I replied.

 Liam turned up the music. The car was filled with the sounds of wailing guitars and synth.

 “I don’t want to,” Liam said, “But I have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I can't imagine Zayn dancing ala-BSB either


End file.
